Harry Potter Alternate Reality
by redstar47
Summary: One choice is made differently ten years before the main story, and the world to be is changed forever. This is Harry Potter, or what he might have been.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter Alternate Reality 

_Eleven years ago…_

The world was silent, as if it was holding its breath. No wind, no footsteps, and no light except the moon, half obscured by a swath of slow-moving clouds. For the third time that minute, Peter Pettigrew stopped and looked around. As with the countless other times he'd looked that night, he was alone. And like all the other times, his solitude offered him no sense of security. Peter was worried, and he had more than enough reason to be.

The houses on either side of him went past, each one more uniform than the one before, each one impassive and cold as only inanimate objects can be. And each house, each street, seemed to bring him no closer to the hill in the center of the town, and the massive mansion that lay on it.

He could easily have apparated there, but he didn't, for a multitude of reasons. First of all, he didn't know where exactly the meeting would take place, and it would be easier to search the area on foot than to teleport at random among the grounds and interior of the massive house. The last thing he wanted to have happen was for the Ministry to come just because he had Splinched himself. And he couldn't possibly know whether or not the Dark Lord had managed to devise a spell or potion that allowed him to sense when someone apparated into his vicinity. Peter wouldn't have put it past him. He was no friend of the Dark Lord's, at least not until he gave him what he wanted. He didn't want to be killed before he could speak because some Death Eater or other identified him as a friend of the Potters. So he walked.

After a while, he came to a bend in the street. After that, it widened and he reached the town center. And here, finally, there were people. Muggle adults talked about whatever they talk about off to one corner, while kids in costumes rushed past him, waving bags of candy and laughing. Peter sighed with relief: a normal Halloween scene, with no Death Eater in sight. Of course, he couldn't know that for sure—any adult there could have been one of the Dark Lord's servants waiting to strike—but the sight of other, normal people comforted him.

"_You can turn back now, _said a voice in his head. _You won't be betraying anyone. He won't go after you._"

And for a moment, Peter saw it: how he could live a normal life, and still be a true friend to James. He was about to turn around and leave, but then the moment passed and he was back in the real world, where He-who-must-not-be-named was at large, and where if Peter didn't join him, he would be killed. With a massive effort of will, he walked forward out of the square. Another side street: like the past few, this one was inexplicably free of trick-or-treaters. He walked down it, now with a quickened pace, even though he knew that once he got there; there would be no turning back.

The mansion and its hill loomed large ahead of him by now. A few more streets and he would be there. He turned out of another lifeless side street and found himself staring at the place. It was a massive structure, complete with half-fallen balconies and dry fountains that had obviously been designed to show off the wealth of the people who had once lived there. Now, however, it was a rotting shell. Peter could understand why the trick-or-treaters stayed away from the place: he would have been scared even if he hadn't known that Lord Voldemort was waiting for him inside.

He walked forward to the house, and only then did he realize that it was surrounded by a towering wrought-iron fence. Using magic at this point would be stupid, not to mention that there were Muggles a few streets away. Besides, if the Dark Lord really spent time here, then the fence would be protected by spells a lot more powerful than his. He walked along the fence, which seemed to lead all the way around that side of the house. He turned the corner and saw what looked like a gate in the fence. Now running as quickly and as quietly as he could, he ran up to it and looked through the one open door and saw a graveyard.

His instincts of self-preservation and his conscience both screamed at him to turn around, but he blocked them out and walked into the graveyard. On the far side of it was a path leading up to the house, but he doubted he'd make it that far. There was a clearing in the center, dominated by a massive headstone on one side.

"_Crucio!" _

He fell to the ground screaming, although he knew no one would ever hear him. Pain seemed to press on him in every way imaginable. He was actually somewhat surprised that he hadn't been killed instead.

His head was lifted up by the hair, some of which came out. He found himself staring at the white mask of a Death Eater.

"_Pettigrew,_" said the Death Eater, as if the word had a bad taste and he was spitting it out. "What business do you have with the Dark Lord?"

"It's only for him—it's only for him—" said Pettigrew desperately.

"What?" said the Death Eater. "If you'll tell him, you'll tell me too. What is it?"

Pettigrew could only scream for a few moments. "I'm—I'm the Secret-Keeper, I'm the Secret-Keeper!"

The Death Eater tilted his head at Pettigrew, who realized his captor had no idea what he was talking about. There was a flash of light, and suddenly his head dropped to the ground, and in the same instant the pain stopped. He lay there panting.

"Be civil, Lucius," said a calm voice from above them. "Peter here is our guest, and you will treat him well."

The Death Eater murmured a response, and Peter stood up to find himself staring into two crimson eyes like slits in the pale granite of the man's face. He backed away and shut his eyes.

"Well, well," said Voldemort. "You have come to see me. You have found me. What do you have to say?"

Peter Pettigrew, senseless with fear, knew what he had to do. It was far too late for anything else now.

Lucius Malfoy was leaving the graveyard. It had been an eventful night, and was about to be much more so. "_Imagine,_" he thought, "_a Fidelius charm, and that weasel the Secret-Keeper…fools. They will die for their resistance._"

He paused. Another person was entering the graveyard, one he'd known for a long time, but only recently had entered service to the Dark Lord.

"Severus," said Lucius. "What brings you here tonight? Did he call for you?" Lucius was somewhat confused, as if he'd had reason not to expect Snape there that night.

"No," said Snape. "I came of my own volition. I was not called."

"In that case, you missed the party," said Lucius, chuckling. Snape stopped and turned towards him, so he continued: "Peter Pettigrew came to visit."

Snape smiled slightly. He had never liked him, or James, or any of that clique, and he had good reason not to. "Indeed," said Snape. "I take it he's dead now?"

Lucius grimaced behind his mask. "That's what you would think, but no. The Dark Lord let him leave alive, before he himself left."

Snape's eyes widened. "Really? What did Pettigrew do?"

Lucius smiled, despite himself. "It's not what he did—it's what the Potters did. Those fools had a Fidelius charm on their house. That was what was keeping the Dark Lord from finding them. And they made Pettigrew, that idiot, their Secret-Keeper!"

Snape's mask hid it, but all of the color drained from his face. "Not Sirius Black?"

"So you did know about that," said Lucius. "That's what we'd thought, but apparently they switched it to Pettigrew at the last moment. It was all some attempt to throw us off. Amazing how well it worked, no?"

Snape struggled to keep his voice under control. "So he gave the Dark Lord the secret?"

"Of course," said Lucius. "I thought he would have to steal the secret from his mind, but he gave it up willingly. That was why he had come. Some friend."

"And the Dark Lord's already gone to kill them?" asked Snape, knowing the answer.

"Naturally," said Lucius. "Tonight, the Potters die. If you'll excuse me, I have to get home to my wife and child…that way, when the Ministry comes knocking, I'll have had nothing to do with it."

With a laugh, he disapparated.

Snape waited, then checked around to make sure he was alone. He had no time to cast a spell to find out. Once he was sure, he disapparated, heading for Godric's Hollow. His doubts had long since fled; he was going to save Lily if he could, and die if he couldn't.

James Potter's head swiveled around as the front door imploded. Voldemort stepped into the hall, looking distant yet pleased. James instinctively reached for his wand, but it wasn't nearby. "He's here!" yelled James, and then a lethal ray of magic quieted him forever. Voldemort heard scuffling from the upper floors, as if someone was running around and moving heavy objects. Taking his time and savoring the moment, Voldemort ascended the stairs and turned to his right, where he found a closed door. Voldemort already knew it would be blocked from the other side. Not wanting to hurt anyone hiding there—that would be done by a different spell—he raised his wand and vanished the door and the objects behind it with one word.

Inside the room were a woman in her mid-twenties and a baby in a crib. Voldemort strode into the room, heading for the crib, but the woman stood in his way. With tears streaming down her face, the woman began to beg for her child's life, all meaningless droning to Voldemort. It didn't evoke any pity from him, not that anything could anymore.

"Stand aside, foolish girl…I said stand aside…Avada-"

He stopped. A patch of room next to the woman melted, then resolved to reveal a man, roughly her height and wearing a hooded Muggle overcoat.

"And you are?" asked Voldemort. He wasn't worried: the stranger could Apparate, but Voldemort was confident that he could kill him first if he tried.

The man didn't respond, but instead grabbed the woman's wrist. The woman, beginning to understand what was happening, reached for her child. By now, Voldemort was interested. If the stranger was one of the Order, then whoever it was was smart enough to know that he stood no chance at killing him, and could only hope to evade him. This showed more foresight than most of Voldemort's victims, who had mostly died either screaming or trying to kill him, neither of which had any effect. If the man wasn't one of Voldemort's enemies, then he had discovered Voldemort's plot faster than anyone else.

Either way, Voldemort wanted to know who the man was, and he had just enough time to find out before he killed him.

"_Legilimens!_" roared Voldemort, but the man's mind was such a cacophony of confused thoughts and conflicting emotions that Voldemort was forced to retreat. This gave the stranger the time he needed. Voldemort raised his wand for the death curse, but suddenly the stranger, the woman, and the child were gone in a blur of whirling world.

For a few moments, Voldemort was silent. Then he tilted his head back and screamed in anger. His prey had gotten away—for the first time ever, it had won. He raised his wand and blasted the ceiling and the roof above into woodchips. Then he swore to himself that someday, somehow, he would find the two remaining Potters and kill the child. He would hunt them until the day he died.

Chapter 1: Release

Harry Potter took a deep breath, then ran forward. Despite himself, he braced for impact, all of his muscles stiffening. He closed his eyes at the last moment, then opened them in amazement to find that he was in a completely different place.

"_I'm really here_," he thought. As if to confirm this, a massive sign above him read **Platform 9 ¾ **with a clock below it. Around him, other witches and wizards rushed around, some accompanied by their parents. Dominating the scene was the massive crimson-black train marked Hogwarts Express in a font that almost seemed to glitter.

Behind him, his father and mother walked out of the charmed pillar that served as the entrance to the platform, and only then did he realize he was in the way. He stepped back into the crowd as a group of kids, all toting owls in cages, walked through chatting to each other.

He wasn't paying attention. He was surrounded by more magical people than he'd ever seen in his life. He'd never known anyone his age before—his parents let him out of the house only rarely, and always with one of them accompanying him—but now he was going to Hogwarts, somewhere he would actually meet people, actually have fun for once. Finally, it was his turn.

His mother walked up to him.

She looked at the train. "I could almost think I'm coming here for my seventh year," she said. She looked down at him, and her eyes took on the unreadable expression they sometimes did. Whatever she was thinking about, she shook it off and smiled at him. "Do you still have everything?" she asked him. Behind her, his father turned to join them, but was greeted by a tall man with graying blond hair and an appearance that suggested money. "Severus," the man said, and his father turned to shake his hand.

"Of course," said Harry. "You don't need to worry so much, Mom."

She paused. For a moment, she closed her eyes and seemed to fight with herself. Finally, she reached into her purse. Harry, who knew that the purse was charmed to hold objects much bigger than itself, stepped back.

His mother pulled out a brown package tied with string. "It's a gift," she said, putting it on top of his bags. "For entering Hogwarts. You can open it on the train."

His eyes lit up with joy. "Thanks! What is it? Is it a surprise?"

"Yes," his mother replied. "Something of your father's."

"Okay," said Harry, somewhat confused. "Why did he have you give it to me?"

"No, not-" began his mother, then stopped. "He doesn't know I'm giving it to you. Trust me, though, he'd want you to have it."

"Fine," said Harry, not inclined to question her any further. From the sign above them came the sound of a bell, even though the sign had none. "You'd better get on," said his mother. "The good seats are all taken first."

His father came to her side. "Time already? Harry, study well and follow the rules. And above all, have fun."

Harry smiled as he started to pull his suitcases toward the train. "See you soon!" he yelled.

"Stay safe," his mother called back.

Harry joined the throng of students in front of the closest entrance. He reached into his pocket, feeling the wooden shaft with the phoenix-feather core that was his wand. The crowd thinned out in front of him and he walked forward, up the ramp, and into the car. He went into an empty cabin and took a window seat, pushing all his stuff into the compartments above, first his suitcase, then his books, then his owl, and lastly the package.

Sitting down, he looked out the window as the train began to move. A wall of yelling parents separated the passengers from the rest of the platform, some smiling, some with their hands cupped around their mouth, and a few with their arms stretched out holding a forgotten book or other. Harry turned his head around and saw his mother and father. His father was waving, but his mother had her hand to her face. She took her hand down and turned away, but not before Harry saw her face glittering in the sunlight. This took him as strange: some of the parents were having a hard time saying goodbye, if all the shouting was any indication, but none of them were actually in tears. It took Harry a minute to remember his mother's strange habit: how sometimes she would stare at nothing for a while, seemingly deep in thought, and how, in even rarer instances, Harry would see her crying silently for no apparent reason. He had always wanted to find out why, but had thought better of asking her. And it was too late now, because the train had finally shrugged off its three-month slumber and was picking up speed. Harry had time to watch his father wave one more time before they were gone, and he was on his way to the rest of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Wrong Place for Normal

A bump in the tracks jolted Harry out of his thoughts. He realized that he'd been sitting there, imagining Hogwarts from his parents' descriptions, for a good twenty minutes. Worried that something might be missing, he stood up and checked the compartments above him. Owl, books, and suitcase were in proper order. So was the package, and Harry realized he hadn't opened it yet.

"Later," he thought. "I'm going to go explore."

He stepped out into the hall, mostly: the boy he'd bumped into yelled in surprise and Harry jumped back.

"Sorry," said Harry.

"Watch it," said the boy, who had blond hair, a slight build, and a somewhat conceited air. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," said Harry.

"My name's Draco," said the boy, and Harry thought of the man at the station who had greeted his father and, in retrospect, was a fifty-year old version of the boy in front of him. Draco gestured to a small giant behind him. "This is Crabbe."

"I'm Harry. Wait—can you do any magic yet?"

"Not really," admitted Draco. "I know all the words, but nothing happens when I try. Don't bother asking him," added Draco when Harry turned to the silent Crabbe, "He's not too bright." Crabbe murmured assent.

"Well," said Harry, "I can't do anything except the spell Ollivander tested me with. Although, this one Christmas, I saw a giant bowl falling towards my cat. I don't know exactly what happened, but I think I must've accidentally rocketed her into the pudding, because she was covered in it afterward and it was all over the house."

Draco laughed at the story. "We have a house elf for all that," he said. Harry shrugged; it wasn't unheard of. He'd never seen one. Draco smiled, a gesture that he didn't seem to have much experience with. "You know, you could be a good friend of-" He paused, and seemed to suddenly figure something out. He gave Harry an unreadable look. "Are you Harry _Potter_?" Draco asked him.

"Um, yes," said Harry. "What's wrong?"

Draco's face was pale to begin with, but even so, the transition to a terrified white was noticeable. "Well," he said, "I've got to go back to my cabin, make sure everything's still there and all- come on, Crabbe!"

With that, he ran back down the aisle, with an even-more-confused-looking Crabbe following him.

Harry stared after them, then shrugged and walked back into his cabin. He didn't know what Draco's problem was, or why his own full name had any significance, but it didn't matter to him. One could only expect strangeness in the Wizarding world.

He reached inside the compartment above his seat and took out the package. There was a knock at the door and a red-haired, tall boy came in with two suitcases.

"Hi," said Harry, then, noticing the boy's disconcerted look, added, "You alright?"

The boy nodded. "My brothers are blowing up their car. I figured I'd better leave before they jinx me or something. My name's Ron."

"Harry. No brothers," replied Harry.

Harry sat down, and Ron sat next to him. "What's that?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged. "A present from my parents. I was about to find out."

Harry pulled off the string, which vanished. "My mom does that," Harry explained. He pulled off the wrapping (also charmed) and was left with the box, which he opened.

Unable to identify the golden surface inside, Harry flipped the box upside down, at which point the glittering cloak inside flowed onto his lap like water.

Harry and Ron stared, dumbstruck, at the cloak. Slowly, Harry reached down and cupped some of the fabric in his hands, feeling the silken texture.

"Your parents give you Invisibility Cloaks for presents?" asked Ron in awe.

"I didn't even know we owned one of these!" said Harry, equally awed. He gathered the cloak in one hand, and it draped over the edge and almost brushed the floor. He gulped, then threw the cloak over himself.

He looked at Ron from under the cloak, which was more than big enough for him. He didn't feel particularly invisible. "Well?"

"It's a Cloak, all right," said Ron. "You're gone."

To make sure, Harry crept over to another part of the room. Sure enough, Ron continued to stare at the spot where he'd been.

"I could get used to this," said Harry, causing Ron to jump. Harry took off the cloak and handed it to Ron. "Want to try?"

"Stow it," said Ron. "No, the cloak," he added upon seeing Harry's open mouth. "The snack trolley's coming."

Harry put the cloak back in the box and picked it up as the door opened. "Snacks?" asked the witch.

"A chocolate frog and some pumpkin juice," Harry said. Then, noticing Ron shifting uncomfortably, he added, "Erm…two of both."

"Normally, we don't get to bring too much money to Hogwarts," said Ron once the witch had returned to her cart.

Harry was about to speak when the witch returned with their snacks. "You're going to the wrong place for normal," she said. "Eat up."

Ron stared at the witch's back as she left. "What's with her?" he asked. "Last I checked, she was a waitress, not a soothsayer."

Harry shrugged. "I hear there are tons of weird people at the castle," he said, putting the cloak back above them. He handed Ron a box and a flask of light orange liquid. "Want them?"

"Sure," said Ron. He opened the box, and barely missed the catch as the frog inside came to life and leaped over his head.

The next few minutes saw Harry and Ron chasing the stray frog throughout the cabin. When a brown-haired girl entered, she saw Harry and Ron lying on the floor in exhaustion, with Ron triumphantly holding the wriggling frog in his hand.

"It escaped," explained Ron meekly, upon noticing the girl.

The girl looked at him, confused. Harry thought she had good reason to be, but the girl suddenly seemed to realize something and said "Oh, charmed food," as if that explained the scene. "I'm Hermione Granger. May I see?"

"Ron Weasley, and it's a Chocolate Frog," he said, holding it up and giving her a look as though, even considering that he and Harry were lying on the ground after chasing a frog, he thought her by far the stranger. "You've never seen one?"

"Well, no," she said. "I'm Muggle-born."

"Oh," said Ron, which seemed to explain everything to him. He got up off the floor, which Harry did as well. "They start hopping around as soon as you open the box. They've got collectable cards in them."

"And they don't feel pain when you eat them?" asked Hermione. Ron stopped and stared as if he'd never thought about this before, and was about to open his mouth to answer when Hermione added, "Well, no, they wouldn't. Animation charms usually include motion and directional senses only, and then disappear when enough of the original animated object is destroyed. Or eaten."

"I thought you said you were Muggle-born," said Ron, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," said Hermione, blushing. "I looked through some of my books before-"

A black-haired, plump-faced boy appeared next to her. "Neville Longbottom. Sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen a frog?"

Ron showed him the Chocolate Frog. "No, a real one," replied Neville.

Harry shrugged. "Not in here," he said. "I'm Harry Potter, and I actually managed to hold on to my frog-"

"There he is!" yelled Neville exasperatedly, looking at something down the hall. He pulled his wand out from his pocket, took aim, and yelled, "Flipendo!" An orange jet of light shot out of the wand, which was followed by a bang and a subsequent croak further down.

"You can do magic already?" asked Harry, amazed.

"Just that spell," replied Neville. "Gran taught it to me before I came. She said I have potential for learning magic."

"Guess so," said Harry, looking down the hall. An upside down toad lay there, wiggling webbed appendages. "Go get it before it gets up," Harry said. "We had some trouble with our own Chocolate Frogs a little while ago."

"Right. Thanks for your-erm-help," said Hermione, and headed down to retrieve the toad. Neville turned to leave, and in doing so caught Harry's eyes again.

What happened next happened so suddenly that, in retrospect, Harry had a hard time remembering exactly what had triggered it. A blinding pain erupted between his eyes, and the world seemed to lose clarity, to lose reality. Harry knew that something else was real to him then, but he couldn't tell what he was seeing. He heard something however: a woman's voice, throaty and unrecognizable, saying, "_And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal…_"

The vision broke like a dam, and in its place flooded reality, Harry's reality, the reality of the world around him. "You alright?" asked Neville, looking concerned.

"I'm fine," said Harry, reaching up and rubbing his forehead, feeling the smooth skin. "How long was I…um…out?"

"You weren't," said Neville. "You just appeared sort of…distracted, for a moment."

"Well, alright," said Harry, confused. "See you around."

Neville went off down the hall toward Hermione. Harry closed the door and looked at Ron, to find a quizzical stare awaiting him.

"What do you mean, out?" he asked before Harry could say anything.

"Well…didn't anything happen to me?" asked Harry. "I, er, blacked out. I heard some words too. Maybe it didn't take as long as it felt like, but did I collapse or anything?"

"Your eyes glazed over for a second," said Ron, "but that's it. Normally, I wouldn't even mark that down as unusual. Wonder why Neville noticed it that much. Do you feel okay?"

"We've been through this," said Harry. "I'm fine now."

They went back to their seats. As Ron bit down into his frog, Harry thought back. He had given up on making any sense out of the words he'd heard almost as soon as he'd come out of it, but the event confused him.

He had heard voices, seen images, which wasn't normal even in the Wizarding world. Still, as the witch had said, they were going to the wrong place for normal. But he decided, as he bit into the frog, that he would keep an eye on Neville. Something in his expression told Harry that Neville had known more than he was telling, maybe even understood what had happened.

He sighed and swallowed the first bite of chocolate frog. It was going to be a long ride.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: March of the First Years

The rest of the train ride went uneventfully, with Harry and Ron swapping magical stories and wizard cards. No one else showed up, although a loud bang a few cars back told them that Ron's brothers were still at it. Harry learned of Ron's family too: his eldest brother Charlie was a dragon keeper, followed by Bill, a Gringotts manager, then Percy the prefect (who was widely known as such), followed by Fred and George, Ron's twin brothers, for whom his parents had added extra fire-proofing charms to their house, then Ron, as yet not infamous, and lastly Ginny, his only sister, that wasn't Hogwarts age yet.

"She'll come next year, though," said Ron, and hastily changed the subject to the number of Thaddeus Thurkell wizard cards Harry had. He couldn't blame him for doing so; after all, he didn't want to talk much about his family. As compared to Ron's, what could be so interesting about his?

Harry was looking through his Wizard Card collection for his rare Fulbert the Fearful when the speakerless train walls announced that they would be arriving in five minutes, and that students were advised to don their robes. Shaking with anticipation and nerves, Harry and Ron cleaned up their cabin and took down their luggage. The sun had set about a half hour ago, and the last purple-golden rays were just leaving the sky. Harry began to get the feeling that the train was going slightly uphill.

"Almost there," he thought, amazed, knowing that something he'd been waiting for his entire life was about to happen. "I'm almost there."

A sudden squeal startled Harry and made his heart beat fast. It only beat faster when he realized the train was stopping.

As one, he and Ron pressed their noses against the window. The train passed a hill, and suddenly Hogwarts came into view.

There was a collective gasp that went up and down the train. It was a stunning view. The castle itself was huge, situated on what seemed to be the lowest, flattest part of a mountain, which, a ways behind the castle, loomed large above it. In front of the castle were grounds, covered in buildings like dwarfs around the Goliath that was Hogwarts, along with forests which ringed the far side. They ended at the edge of a massive lake that lay in front of everything, black as the space between the stars.

A cheer rang out along the train from the returning students. Harry and Ron could have cared less: _they were there_. Finally, the train came to a stop, and with one last squeal, the journey of the Hogwarts Express was over. Harry and Ron picked up their bags and suitcases and slowly, as if in a trance, walked into the aisle, joining the throng of students there. It was then that their mouths started to work again, but they didn't know what to say. The river of older students around them were talking about the school and the various classes they'd taken in their past years, a discussion Harry and Ron were incapable of joining. The flow took them out on the platform, where it dispersed as the students milled about, waiting. Harry and Ron walked forward through the crowd, eager to get a better view of the castle. The crowd thinned out in front of them, and they reached the edge of the platform. Only then did they suddenly realize that it was on the edge of the lake. It looked like a giant black pit in front of them, with the only belying factors being the light from the train and the outlines of their own reflections.

Suddenly, a cheer went up from the students. Harry and Ron looked up to see an armada of rowboats (with no oars to speak of, naturally), headed by a giant boat with a giant captain.

"That…man…must have charmed them to row themselves," muttered Ron. "Who _is_ that?"

"I can't-" began Harry. "Wait a minute, that's Hagrid!"

"Who?" asked Ron, turning away from the sight.

"Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts," said Harry. "He used to visit us pretty often at our house. Always bringing some message from Dumbledore."

"Oh, right," said Ron. "My brothers told me he's a savage that lives in the Forbidden Forest. He's not?"

"Far from it," said Harry, giving Ron a look. "Your brothers aren't all that truthful?"

"It's not their strong suit," Ron admitted. Then, "Wait, your family gets messages from-"

Their conversation was stamped out as the throng of students behind them rushed forward to try to get a seat on the rapidly approaching boats. Harry and Ron turned around and yelled at the group to back up, trying to keep their balance. A few first years fell in.

Finally, the fleet of boats hit the shore. Hagrid's boat docked first, and the rest followed, spreading out from him as the V formation flattened out against the platform. "All righ'!" he roared. "Firs' years in the boats, second years an' on into the carriages"—he made a gesture to the right side of the platform—"and everyone git outta the water."

Harry and Ron went down the few yards of shore and climbed into one of the boats. Harry turned around to look at Hagrid, who noticed him and waved, almost knocking one of the students into the water.

Slowly, all the first years boarded the boats. Harry and Ron were joined by a sandy-haired boy who introduced himself as Seamus, and a light-haired girl who introduced herself as Luna and said nothing else thereafter. Finally, Neville Longbottom, after a second toad chase, boarded, and the boats slowly turned around and took off across the lake, unmanned oars rowing away.

"So," said Ron, still staring at the castle. "What house are you guys trying to get into?"

"Gryffindor, I guess," said Harry. "Or Slytherin. My dad was in that."

Seamus shrugged. "For me, anything but Slytherin. I'll probably be in Hufflepuff; I'm not brave or smart or anything."

"That's what everyone says, I think," said Harry. "I've heard Slytherin isn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be."

"Yeah, but look at all the Dark wizards that came out of there," said Ron. "You-Know-Who, for one."

"Well, that'd give any house a bad history," said Harry. "He just happened to be there."

"Well, anyway," said Ron, "I'm trying for Gryffindor. All my brothers have been there. Although, I was sort of hoping they'd kick Fred and George out before I came so I wouldn't have to deal with them."

Harry laughed. Seamus, who got the idea, chuckled nervously.

They were silent for a few moments. A few boats away, a group of first years screamed, all shouting that they'd seen a giant tentacle in the water.

"So…" said Harry. "Have you guys heard the latest Cannon scores? They thrashed the Harpies yesterday." It seemed impossible to stay quiet in front of Hogwarts.

The boats sailed steadily towards the far end of the lake while Harry, Ron, and Seamus chatted about Quidditch like the oldest of friends. The fleet eventually reached a rock wall below the fringes of a massive forest above them, with strands of ivy and willow reaching down to brush the surface of the lake. The boats sailed through the sinuous foliage and into a hollow space in the rock beyond. The lake stopped at a rocky shore, which led uphill to a tunnel off to the right. The boats all docked against the shore and remained immobile, and for a moment, Harry watched the water ripples from the boats collide and rebound in an aquatic starscape.

Hagrid jumped from the center boat onto the shore, creating more ripples in the lake. "Alrigh', everyone out, and don' leave anythin'," he roared. The first years climbed out of the boats, dragging all of their suitcases (some waterproof, some drenched) with them onto the rocks. Hagrid walked up the shore, and the first years formed a disfigured flock behind him.

Slowly, they went up the tunnel, which curved up and to the right. A noise, like a constant humming, pervaded the air: the nervous chatter of a hundred anxious students. They came out of the mouth of the tunnel and found themselves staring up at the castle, all its towers and turrets given detail by the light of the rising moon.

Hagrid led the group across the grounds to the massive oak doors of the castle. Looking up at them and the stone walls above them, Harry couldn't shake a strange impression that the castle was alive, a massive being of stone and wood, that was waiting to take them in through its oaken mouth, like it had so many before them.

For no reason he could think of, except that it somehow seemed appropriate, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. There was a reverberating BANG as Hagrid knocked on the doors. There were three knocks in total, each one creating a giant hollow sound that echoed out over the lake.

Slowly, the doors opened, and a hundred necks craned up, left, and right: two hundred feet shifted their burden to their toes as their owners tried to see just a little bit higher: countless mouths dropped in time with the first years' initial view of their new home.

Hagrid walked forward, and the crowd surged behind him. Harry and Ron pressed against the people in front, staring around at the entrance, marked on the inside by two pillars that towered to the ceiling. They were in a massive entrance hall, with doors and staircases leading off to the left and right. Portraits lined the walls, all of whom were staring down at the new students. One of the suits of armor on the far side waved. Off to the right was another giant doorway, nowhere near the size of the entrance gate but many times taller than the students nonetheless. The doors were open, and inside was another room, longer than the entrance hall and almost as wide, with four long tables that ended in a raised platform which bore a fifth, smaller one.

The horde of first years was lead to the left instead, through a smaller door that forced the crowd to thin going through and bulge at either end. Once inside, they were stopped by Hagrid's shouted commands, then waited. Hagrid lead them no further; indeed, he went through a door on the far side of the room (requiring him to bend over) and disappeared.

The chatter in the room swelled to the point that the portraits therein covered their ears. All of the first years, Harry and Ron included, seemed to have an immediate desire to share their first impressions of the inside of Hogwarts.

From another door, an older witch in green with a pointed hat to match strode in, with glasses, a stern demeanor, and an expression on her face that told anyone who was watching that she'd done this many times before. She walked around the group of first years, which was beginning to quiet itself, and came to a stop facing them from the opposite side of the room.

She pulled out her wand, tapped her mouth with it, then said in an amplified voice, "_Your attention, please!_"

The remaining chatter flickered and died. She tapped her wand against her mouth again, then said, at a normal volume this time, "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My name is Professor McGonagall; I am the Transfiguration teacher here."

She paused, then continued: "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. Before it, you will be Sorted into the four Hogwarts houses. All of them have produced many famous witches and wizards, and no one House is better than any other." She paused to give them a glare that spoke of many years of seeing such rivalries. "You may leave your luggage here," she said. "It will be taken up to your dormitories later, once the feast is over." Behind her, there was the sound of a mid-sized stampede, and an amplified version of the first-years' earlier chatter: the rest of the students had arrived.

Professor McGonagall, knowing she had no hope of speaking over that noise, magic or not, waited. When the footfalls stopped, and the chatter grew distant, she finished by saying, "The Sorting will begin soon. Follow me."

She walked through the crowd, which parted like an animated sea around her; she just had that effect on people. Once she had reached the door, she opened it again (it had closed itself) and led the students across the entrance hall and into the longer one they had seen coming in.

The first thing Harry noticed about the Great Hall was its ceiling, or lack thereof; he had been following the behemoth pillars on both walls with his eyes, straining to see where they ended, only to discover that they opened up to the night sky above them, as did the walls. Slowly, he remembered something his father had told him about Hogwarts: that the dining room, the Great Hall, had a ceiling charmed to look like the sky above it. The second thing he noticed was that the four long tables, with edges of crimson, gold, blue, and green respectively, were now packed. Hundreds of students lined the seats, all staring at the first years. The only open seats were the ones at the far end of each table, leaving about a seventh of each table vacant. The third thing he noticed was that McGonagall was leading them straight towards the horizontal fifth table at the far end, which was roost to multiple adult wizards and witches, who seemed to be the other teachers. In the middle of it was an aged wizard in purple robes, with a long white beard and a majestic air, whom Harry recognized instantly as Dumbledore. In front of him was a stool with what appeared to be a black lump on top.

McGonagall walked up to the stool, and stopped. Somehow, everyone in the line knew that they had reached their destination, and the line stayed perfectly straight and immobile. The emerald witch seemed to be waiting for something. Indeed, so did everybody else: the older students in the hall leaned forward toward the bench, and even a few of the teachers turned their heads to stare at it. The first years, Harry included, stared at it too, but they didn't know what they were waiting for. Harry tried to get a better view of the black object on top of the stool, which was nondescript from that distance.

Suddenly, the lump straightened up, taking on the conic outline of the classic wizard's hat: "_The Sorting Hat,_" thought Harry. A few people clapped and cheered, and the hat waited politely for silence. Only when the last echoing whoop had turned to silence did the hat open a mouth-shaped rent near its brim and sing, in a deep bass voice:

_So many years have come and past _

_And here, as were before, _

_New students, houseless, I must sort _

_Into the houses four. _

_No thought is hidden from my sight, _

_Strong hopes and secrets deep, _

_From them I'll tell you what you are. _

_Your truth that I will keep. _

_In Ravenclaw, you'll find a home _

_If you're the smarter kind, _

_This house is known and far renowned _

_For wit and depth of mind. _

_In Gryffindor, that lion's den _

_You'll find the bravest few, _

_To others, they're the noble sort, _

_To friends, they're always true. _

_In Slytherin, you'll find your friends _

_Where cliques and brains collide _

_Their cleverness and cunning are _

_The sources of their pride. _

_In Hufflepuff, the gentler type _

_Will find a home through me, _

_Hard-working are the Hufflepuffs _

_And humble as can be. _

_Are you confused? I'd be surprised _

_If, truly, you said no, _

_So come and meet the Sorting Hat _

_He'll tell you where to go. _

_Come here! I promise I don't bite _

_I only read your soul, _

_And send you home to waiting House_

_Your fate yours to control. _

The hat finished with an improvised riff, then fell silent. The students below them burst into raucous applause, and though the hat remained still, Harry had the odd impression, possibly due to the many curved wrinkles lining the hat, that it was smiling broadly. A few of the first years clapped feebly, but the bulk of them remained silent. The hat's eccentric song had done little to soothe their anxiety. The applause died down quickly, but the older students continued to watch the hat with rapture.

McGonagall drew out from her robes a piece of parchment. Turning to address the first years, she called out, "Abbott, Hannah!"

There was a collective intake of breath throughout the hall, so that Hannah's nervous gasp was inaudible. She walked up the steps rigid and pale as granite, then stopped at the stool. Slowly, as if she wasn't entirely sure what to do, she picked up the hat and turned around; then, wide-eyed, she placed it on her own head.

The hat covered half of her face. There was a moment of tension as everyone in the hall leaned forward. Then—

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted with cheer as Hannah Abbott stumbled down to the gold-edged table.

"Bones, Susan!" called McGonagall.

The girl slowly approached the hat. Again, everyone stared at the black, patched surface, and again, it roared out the house—"RAVENCLAW!"

"Boot, Terry!" Next in line was a smaller, brown-haired boy, who took slightly longer to Sort than the girl before him, and who became the second Ravenclaw of the year. Harry's eyes were drawn to each first year as he or she stepped up, trembling, to be Sorted; indeed, the whole line edged, ducked, and peeked around itself to watch Brocklehurst, Mandy don the hat and become a Ravenclaw. He realized that this tendency was a function of his nerves. To try to calm himself down, he looked upwards at the night sky, but the stars themselves seemed to glitter with a secretive, natural knowledge and comfortability that he wasn't yet a part of.

Slowly, the line moved forward, shortening as the House tables swelled. The Gryffindor table erupted and several red sparks flew as the Sorting Hat declared Lavender Brown the first new Gryffindor of the year. Millicent Bulstrode, the first new Slytherin, was given an equally loud fanfare from the Slytherins. Having given up his cosmic vigil, Harry watched as Justin Finch-Fletchley became a Hufflepuff.

"Finnigan, Seamus!" called McGonagall, and the boy in front of Harry walked out of the line, trembling, to take his place up front with the hat. Nervously, Harry moved forward, hoping that he wouldn't look quite as nervous as Seamus did now when it was his own turn and knowing that, in all fairness, he probably would. Seamus took the longest so far, sitting stiffly on the stool with his hands gripping the rim for about a minute before finally being sent to the Gryffindor table. Harry thought he heard a nervous squeak when Hermione Granger's name was called, and she almost sprinted out of the line and up to the platform. _Come on. I think I can do better than that_.

Hermione Granger was declared a Gryffindor, and the next student was called up. It seemed to Harry that the Hall was growing larger and larger with each new student; he briefly wondered if it was charmed to do so. Malfoy, Draco walked up to the front of the Hall like he owned it, devoid of whatever terror Harry's last name had inspired in him earlier. The hat had barely touched his shoulders before it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" which left him strutting even more pompously down to the applauding green-fringed table. The line by then had diminished to about half of its original size, and Harry wondered exactly how long he had left.

"Parkinson, Pansy!" _Already?_ "SLYTHERIN!" He knew it wouldn't be much longer. He briefly wondered what he'd look like walking up to the hat, sitting there scared out of his mind while the hat determined his future. Another girl went up and was Sorted in what felt like seconds to Harry, and he wondered if time itself was speeding up in anticipation.

"Patil, Parvati!" "GRYFFINDOR!" "Perks, Sally-Anne!" "HUFFLEPUFF!" And then—

"Potter, Harry!"

There was a moment of silence in Harry's world. He blinked twice, swallowed, and walked stiffly out of the line, focusing on nothing but the black Hat. The walk seemed interminable: his footsteps seemed to bring him no closer to the front. Finally, with his heartbeat drumming in his ears, he reached the stool and stopped, staring blankly at the Sorting Hat. There was a moment of disjointedness where it took him a moment for his numbed mind to register that he had reached this moment, that it was his turn now. And then time moved forward, and he had picked up the frayed, dilapidated, mysterious Hat, and he had sat on the stool. As he lowered the brim over his head, he saw the whole Hall, a sea of faces all pivoted towards him—and was it his imagination, or were there more people staring than with any of the others, were there people watching him open-mouthed that had been talking under their breaths only moments before, as if he was somehow different from the rest—and then the brim descended past his eyes, and his vision was blocked by a wrinkled black wall.

He waited. "_Well, well, what have we here…_" said a voice in Harry's ear.

Harry swallowed hard. "_Quite a mind, and quite a history behind it…_" The hat was silent for a moment, and Harry had the strange sensation of something else calling up his memories and viewing them, shifting his thoughts around. _"Courage, yes. Friendly enough. There's brains, and an open enough mind for it too. And you want to show who you are, what you can do, after being kept hidden your entire life. There is power, power indeed._"

Again, he sensed the hat probing his mind. He suddenly had an uncomfortable mental image of a rake moving through a pile of leaves. "_Oh, hush,_" said the hat. "_I think I'm more gentle than that_." Harry shivered, and the hat paused in its search. "_I wonder… where would _you_ like to go?_"

"_Me?"_ asked Harry, amazed that the hat would be asking his opinion. "_Either Slytherin or Gryffindor, I guess_."

The hat was silent for a moment. "_Slytherin and Gryffindor, night and day, sun and moon,_" it said. "_So different…and yet, there are some who bridge the gap, and show just how much alike they really are. That is a strange request, Harry Potter, which is fitting for a strange case like you. That was the question about you from the start, you know: Gryffindor or Slytherin._"

Harry's hopes rose. Either way, his request was going to be granted. The hat sighed and resumed its search. "_If I ever judged by heredity, you'd be an instant Gryffindor, but then I never do,_" mused the hat as it probed.

"_My father was in Slytherin,_" Harry said, but the hat took no notice.

Harry started to worry about how long he was taking. Surely, nobody before had waited this long to be Sorted? He told himself to relax, told himself that he was imagining it, but there was no denying the fact that it had taken almost a minute at the very least, and the hat showed no signs of coming to a decision.

"_Fine,_" said the Hat. "_I will test you._"

Without knowing why, Harry tightly gripped the edges of the stool. And then, suddenly, there was no stool, no hat, no Hogwarts. All there was was the plain that stretched out infinitely in every direction from where he stood, and the odd purple sky of dusk, complete with a dying sun glowing golden on the horizon facing him. And there was someone or something a ways in front of him, silhouetted by the sunset, and beyond that was something that shone. Harry didn't know what it was, but he knew that he had to have it, that all the dreams and desires he would ever have were enclosed in that little ball of light, and that it belonged to him. He ran forward, covering the distance between him and the object, vowing not to stop until it was his. Suddenly, his way was blocked by someone's arm. He turned to see that it had been a person, after all, that had stood between Harry and the shining sphere, and they were blocking his way.

Harry turned to run around the person, but he or she moved again to stop him. Everything he tried to get past was foiled; they seemed to know his every move before he made it, and were intent only on not letting him pass. "_Move!_" yelled Harry desperately, because the glow was fading, the dreams were disappearing. "_I have to get through!_" Still the person continued to hold him back, deaf to Harry's plea. Angrily, he wished for his wand, and it was suddenly there in his hand. He leveled it at the person's face, willing to do anything to get whatever it was that lay beyond. Suddenly, the light of the setting sun shifted, and for the first time he could see the person's face. It was his mother.

"_Mom?_" he thought, confused, and already he was whirling his wand behind his head, about to blast her out of his way. "_No!_" he thought, stopping his arm's motion and throwing his wand to the ground. He watched it fall, and when he looked up both his mother and the object were gone. Colors were blurring all around him, as if the world itself was starting to disappear. Slowly, the colors faded, and then suddenly he was back, sitting on the stool, staring at the inside of the hat. Somehow he knew that what had just happened was not real, could not have been real, and had taken mere seconds of actual time. Already the emotions and the thoughts were fading in his mind, losing their meaning that had been so vivid moments ago. And the hat was saying in his ear, "_I thought as much,_" and then, out loud, so loud it seemed to rock the Great Hall and Harry's restored world, it screamed, "_GRYFFINDOR!_"


End file.
